Orpheus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themuseabandonsyou) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-09-01 06:16 pm
themuseabandonsyou) wrote in deercountry2021-09-01 06:16 pm
[001] time has a funny kind of violence
Who: Orpheus themuseabandonsyou
What: Arrival, acclimation, acceptance
When: September 1st
Where: The beach, Cellar Door
Content Warnings: suicidal imagery,
In another world, in another time and place, Orpheus plunges an antler - the last physical remnant of Deerington that came with him when he returned home - into his chest with shaking hands, and the world goes dark.
He finds himself floating in the darkness of some great and cold and foreign sea, the current too strong to resist. Somehow, though, the lack of light and the freezing temperatures and the pressure of the water all around him don't seem as immediately dangerous as they should. Somehow, the body he's in now is perfect for it, all flowing lines and long tentacles. It should be horrifying. It is kind of horrifying, if he thinks aboout it too hard, but there's an odd sort of peace to it, especially as he lets the tide sweep him inexorably wherever it's going, giving him time to reflect.
He thinks about arriving back home, walking out of the fog that surrounded Deerington and arriving where he fell asleep, and immediately turning around and heading straight back for the railway town. About Mister Hermes waiting for him with some small amount of surprise but great relief that he was back so soon after he'd run away in the first place. About telling him everything - about Deerington, the people he'd met there, the visions he'd seen, and his decision to come back home rather than keep running away from everyone who might want to help and support him. He thinks about how for a while it had seemed like it might be alright, and that he'd renew his search for a way back into the Underworld with support from those around him this time.
Of course, it couldn't stay that way. Slowly, steadily, things had started to feel... wrong, somehow. Off-kilter. Over time he began to feel less and less like he belonged anywhere, not because of anyone shunning him or anything like that, but in the sense of feeling connected to the world itself. It was hard to describe, but when he called on Hermes again to ask him about it, he got his answer.
You see, Hermes is the god of between-places - of travel, transit, of being neither here nor there. And that's where Orpheus was, caught between where he came from and where he was going. And the only solution, he'd said, was to finally go, to get to his destination, wherever that may be. And as much as Orpheus wanted to protest, he knew Hermes was right. So he said his tearful goodbyes, as best he could with his very self starting to slip sideways out of reality, and took the plunge.
I. it can't leave you the way it finds you
themuseabandonsyouWhat: Arrival, acclimation, acceptance
When: September 1st
Where: The beach, Cellar Door
Content Warnings: suicidal imagery,
In another world, in another time and place, Orpheus plunges an antler - the last physical remnant of Deerington that came with him when he returned home - into his chest with shaking hands, and the world goes dark.
He finds himself floating in the darkness of some great and cold and foreign sea, the current too strong to resist. Somehow, though, the lack of light and the freezing temperatures and the pressure of the water all around him don't seem as immediately dangerous as they should. Somehow, the body he's in now is perfect for it, all flowing lines and long tentacles. It should be horrifying. It is kind of horrifying, if he thinks aboout it too hard, but there's an odd sort of peace to it, especially as he lets the tide sweep him inexorably wherever it's going, giving him time to reflect.
He thinks about arriving back home, walking out of the fog that surrounded Deerington and arriving where he fell asleep, and immediately turning around and heading straight back for the railway town. About Mister Hermes waiting for him with some small amount of surprise but great relief that he was back so soon after he'd run away in the first place. About telling him everything - about Deerington, the people he'd met there, the visions he'd seen, and his decision to come back home rather than keep running away from everyone who might want to help and support him. He thinks about how for a while it had seemed like it might be alright, and that he'd renew his search for a way back into the Underworld with support from those around him this time.
Of course, it couldn't stay that way. Slowly, steadily, things had started to feel... wrong, somehow. Off-kilter. Over time he began to feel less and less like he belonged anywhere, not because of anyone shunning him or anything like that, but in the sense of feeling connected to the world itself. It was hard to describe, but when he called on Hermes again to ask him about it, he got his answer.
You see, Hermes is the god of between-places - of travel, transit, of being neither here nor there. And that's where Orpheus was, caught between where he came from and where he was going. And the only solution, he'd said, was to finally go, to get to his destination, wherever that may be. And as much as Orpheus wanted to protest, he knew Hermes was right. So he said his tearful goodbyes, as best he could with his very self starting to slip sideways out of reality, and took the plunge.
I. it can't leave you the way it finds you
- And now he's here, washing up on the beach. The transformation back into his old shape is awkward to say the least, but he manages it, crawling out of the ocean hand over hand and gasping for air as his lungs regrow. Once he's free of the waves, he collapses, just lying there for a moment in the sand and taking in the new and foreign sky above him. He feels... less bereft, than he might have expected? That's not saying much - being here is essentially accepting that his search for Eurydice is over, and he's still not sure that's sunk in all the way yet, but there's an odd feeling of belonging. A sense of relief, the loss of an ache that he'd felt so acutely that there had been no other way but to come here. It's strange, and he doesn't quite know what it means or how to deal with it, so he just... doesn't. He's cold and wet and covered in sand, but right now all he really has the capacity to do is lie there and stare at the sky.
- Some time later, as he's been brought a bag of odds and ends - bizarrely, many of the things he thought to try to bring home with him from Deerington - and gathered the few familiar things of his he's found strewn around the beach, he wanders steadily into town, finding himself drawn as inevitably towards the sound of music and laughter as he was brought here by the ocean currents. His eyes are wide as he marvels at the architecture around him - it's been a long, long time since he's been in a city of any real size, and the ornateness of the buildings is dazzling to him in a way that rivals Hadestown in all its gleaming signs and towering heights. Jostling through the crowds awkwardly with his bag, guitar, and lyre all slung across his shoulders, he hums along softly with the music drifting out of the various venues as he passes them, not quite noticing the way little flickers of firefly-like soft golden light seem to dance around him as he does so.
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"Right," he says, worrying his lip slightly. Could this be some curse inflicted on all Sleepers for what they did? The few Wakers he spoke to seemed to think of it as just a fact of life, but maybe that's just because they'd had time to get used to it. Either way, he's thoroughly distracted when Varian manages to start a fire from nothing right in front of him, straightening up in surprise before leaning in a little to examine the flame more closely - albeit still a cautious distance away. It is a fire, after all.
"How did you find that out? About your blood, I mean. Did you get hurt already?"
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"There were these...crabs when I arrived that attacked me. I bled a little and noticed it then. I also uh...did the fire thing when I freaked out," the flame flickers and dies. "Mako's been helping me control it. I...really don't like it."
Because it's magic and it's happening to him.
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"I'm glad you've got his help, though. He seems like he'd know about this kind of thing?" It hadn't really occurred to Orpheus to think about it too hard, but he guesses Mako would've had to start somewhere too, with his own control over fire. "That does seem like it'd be pretty scary, though. I guess I'll have to be careful in case anything similar happens to me."
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It wasn't the most fun way to arrive, that was to be sure.
"I'm really lucky he was around, I don't know how I'd have done it without him," panicked, probably, a lot. "Well...uh it looks like most of us have weird powers now? It might not be what I've got, but chances are you'll get something."
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"He's really great," says Orpheus, looking aside and rubbing at the back of his neck briefly as he tries very hard not to think about that time a rat bit him and he developed a weird infatuation on Mako. "And right. I'll keep an eye out for anything unusual, I guess? It probably wouldn't be a good thing if I wound up being able to summon fire too. I don't think I'd do very well at it."
Not that Varian seems to be having a great time of things, but Orpheus is pretty sure he'd do even worse.
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Oh well. That's...an interesting reaction. Luckily for Orpheus, Varian has the romantic understanding of a dead fish so it largely passes him by.
"He's a pretty great guy, yeah," he offers an encouraging smile. "I don't know, you're pretty together. You can probably figure it out."
Varian has so much faith in Orpheus, oh boy.
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"I'm glad you think so, even if I hope we don't have to find out? I'm sure you can figure it out too, though. You're really smart, and there's probably some kind of order and sense to it, if you think about it long enough."
That's how it works, right? Probably. Orpheus's experience with magic prior to the dream comes mostly from proximity to Medea, who was kind of more of a mad herbalist than anything else.
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Just very firm on that, you can do it, buddy!
"And yeah, I hope so? I'm gonna keep working on it, as much as I can. I'm not gonna give up any time soon," because he's too damn stubborn for THAT. "It's not the first time I've worked out ancient, magical nonsense. It's just...tricky, is all. A challenge."
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It does at least lead to the conclusion that people either have the spontaneous combustion thing under control or there are really effective firefighters or other fire-preventative measures in place. It makes sense!
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For now, at least. Until the other shoe drops, which Varian is definitely going to keep waiting for- mistrustful little soul that he is.
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Orpheus beams, glad Varian seems to think so too. He's optimistic about their situation, despite his own anxieties, but he's self-aware enough to know that he's often optimistic about things when most people are not. Getting a second opinion is always nice.
"And it does seem like a pretty exciting place to live? I've only ever visited big cities before, and only a few times, but I liked them. They were all kind of overwhelming, but mostly in a good way?"
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